


Admittance

by apocatits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Derek, CEO Derek Hale, CEO Stiles, Cora and Stiles are bros, M/M, Nothing really happens in this except that derek and stiles argue, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Stiles and derek are rich, Stiles is a fox, derek is hot af obvi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocatits/pseuds/apocatits
Summary: This is a short little late night writing I thought of years ago. It involves Derek and Stiles Co-Owning a company while hating on one another but lowkey wanting to...you know.





	Admittance

_ I know I'll do it again _ __   
_ I know we're gonna collide _ __   
_ I know we'll call it the end _ __   
_ It's always always a lie _ __   
_ You wear your heart on your sleeve _ __   
_ I wear my blood on my tie _ __   
_ But it's only love underneath, this disguise _ __   
  


_ _________________________________ _

(Stiles)

  
  


Thursday morning starts like every morning lately for Stiles. He wakes with a groan, kisses his teeth and stretches his arms above his head as he arches his back toward the edge of the bed. Ever since Derek helped him get away from that deranged beta last week, his fox has been pretty much going  _ loco _ for the wolf… Which meant Stiles was spending more and more time nursing vodka and whiskey to stifle that _ want _ .

That meant waking up confused and sporting a migraine was not uncommon for him.

“Lynn, close the blinds.” He hisses, shielding his face with the nearest pillow. 

  
“...Lynn?”    
  
At first Stiles nods because who else would be in his room at this hour? Not his hot business partner. No, of course not! “Lynn, are you coming down with something? You're sounding a lot like Wonder-Brow.”

“Who is _ Wonder-Brow _ ?”

Should he reply to that? Eh, why not? “Derek Hale.”

“ _ Me _ ?”

Stiles pauses for a minute, wondering if he should sacrifice his eyes and sit up to see if Derek is actually in his room, or if he should do as his body wants and go back to sleep. 

He decides on a third option. “Derek? Tell me why you’re in my room.”    
  
There's a soft chuff from the bottom of the bed, which Stiles would describe as the most condescending laugh he as ever heard if asked. “Your room? As if I would decorate  _ my _ house like your sad penthouse, Stilinski.”    
  
“First of all,  _ Stone-Cold Steve Austin _ , my penthouse isn't  _ sad. _ It's worth millions of dollars, has like ten priceless things in it… And did I mention that it is sitting pretty, high above the busiest city in America?” Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes from behind his eyelids, not exactly sure why he is arguing with someone concocted by his half-drunk-half-hungover brain; he isn't exactly sure what time it is, but it is definitely too early for arguments with hallucinations. “Either way, I'm not wasting my breath talking to a dream when I am clearly still half drunk and partially asleep— why am I even explaining myself? Ugh…” It takes more energy from him than he likes to expel on a normal day to push himself back to sleep and not argue with a figment of his imagination, but eventually he does manage to find rest even if he can hear Dream-Derek softly laughing at him.

It isn't until several hours later that he wakes for the day with a long stretch, whining low in his throat while musing over the odd dream he had. Why the hell would he dream about Derek being in his room? Derek Hale of all people? Is this a warning that he was going to be late for a meeting or something? Is this his subconscious trying to tell him to get the hell up before Derek hung him out to dry in front of their investors ...again? Usually when you dream about someone you can't stand for the life of you, it's a warning in some way right? 

Hopefully not, his head couldn't handle another  _ Weisman _ fiasco.

“Mmnh..” At first he thinks he is home in his own bed, but Stiles finds himself furrowing his brows when he rolls over onto his stomach to press his face into the pillows and he realizes that: A) he has never owned pillows this plush, B) his bed has  _ never _ smelled of  _ alpha _ , Hugo cologne and autumn leaves (which may be a scent he has been coming more and more familiar with lately…), and C) his bed has never been  _ this _ comfortable. Although, Stiles has this feeling that the only reason why he thinks the bed was so damn comfy is because the sheets reek of an unmated and unmarked alpha.

And his fox  _ loves _ it.

That being said, it isn’t that his own bed doesn't smell nice and comforting because it does! And it isn't that his bed is uncomfortable, because it isn't! It’s just that… well right now it smells kind of ... _ bland _ compared to what it used to smell like, and it's never really  _ that _ comfortable sleeping alone.

Cinnamon and spice, that was what he used to come home to. His bed use to always be tidy on the right with a Rolex lying on the nightstand. He use to find random strands of wavy, black hair hiding in the sheets. 

His bed use to house two warm bodies that collided in the best ways.

He used to love coming home.

Emphasis on used to.    
  


Now his bed more or less houses one somewhat-warm body that spends a lot of time jacking off to memories of a certain thick-browed alpha. 

  
“Oh my  _ god,  _ stop…” He growls at himself, pressing his palms against his eyes. 

Right now, there is no point in thinking about that. Right now, he’s in a stranger's bed. A stranger who he may or may not want to fuck, but a stranger no less. With that in mind he decides that it's time to get up and meet this mystery man. Except, even with his mind ready to move, his body just is not feeling it. “Mnh, it is way too fucking early to be thinking about him...” He drags his hands over his face, the pads of his fingers tugging at his skin.

“Who are you thinking about?” Came a familiar, deep, male voice to his right. “And I can assure you, Stiles, it definitely isn't early.”   
  


“What in the fuck?” Stiles damn near falls out of the bed when he turns his head and locks eyes with his colleague-turned-rival who is standing near an old, mahogany door with a smug smirk on his face. “Derek…” He begins, voice low and slow as he looks around the room. “Where am I?”

The alpha eyes him for several, excruciatingly long minutes before he decides to answer. “My townhouse.” The tall, brunette slides his hand down his face as he makes his way over to the California king that Stiles was currently residing in. “You were drunk.” The older man sits down very slowly on the edge of the bed, never breaking eye contact. “So, I brought you here last night.”

Stiles presses his brows together, pretty much trying to make them one as he shakes his head, face pale. “Did we…?” 

“Hmm? No. No...” Derek chuckles low in his throat, shaking his head. “Why would you even think that?”

Stile may or may not be upset that they didn't actually…  _ you know. _ “Because… I'm in your bed?”

“How do you know it's  _ my _ bed? It could be a guest bed.”

“It smells like you?”

Derek raises a brow. “Been paying attention to how I smell, Stiles?”

Stiles splutters, looking everywhere but Derek. “N-no! I can smell you right now! It's kind of hard not to when you're sitting there all shirtless.” 

Derek smirks, clearly not believing him, but he does let it slide. “Alright.” He stands slowly, stretching his arms above his head where he interlocks them at the nape of his neck. The move allows Stiles to shamelessly admire the thick, flexing muscles of the alpha’s arms and chest. He is pretty sure he's salivating at this point, but luckily Derek unintentionally saves him the embarrassment of swooning by speaking. “I was stopping by Danny’s to grab a quick drink after that stupid deal Whittmore planned, and you were sitting at the bar with your face laying in a puddle of spit, tears and vodka. Danny told me you were having a rough week, so I sat down with you and asked you if you were okay.” 

“ _ You _ sat down to ask  _ me _ if I was  _ okay _ ?” Okay, so maybe his fox likes the sound of that a little too much. 

“Yeah, even  _ I _ have noticed you've been off the past few days.” 

“You noticed that?” 

Derek sighs at him, giving him an unimpressed look. “Even if we don't always get along—”

“Don't always?” He interrupts, snorting.

“Even if we never get along, you're still my partner, Stiles.” The alpha continues. “You're an omega, Stiles. As an alpha I—”

“Don't you start that omega and alpha bullshit that Jackson does!”

“Well it's true!” Derek argues, throwing his hands up in the air. “What happened when that beta shoved you against the doors to the office last week?”

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, not liking where this conversation is going. “Nothing, I had it covered.”

“Really? Because I  _ distinctly _ remember  _ your _ fox asking  _ my _ wolf for help.” Derek huffs, making a gesture between them. “Like it or not, your fox and my wolf see each other as pack.” 

“First off, I flashed my eyes, I didn't ask for help. Secondly, if your wolf thinks of me as pack, he is an awful dick toward pack, then.”

“Flashing your  _ omega _ eyes at an  _ alpha _ while you're in distress is asking for help, Stiles… And that's not my wolf, he likes you… A lot.” The alpha looks away, and was that a blush on his cheeks? “I just can't stand you.” 

“Doesn't matter, my fox hates you anyway.”

“No it doesn't.”

Stiles pauses, something cold crawling up his spine. “How would you know that?”

“You were drunk, Stiles… And your fox was all over me.”

There was no way in hell that what Derek is saying is true. He wouldn't let his control over his fox get that weak. Would he? “Whatever, Hale.” 

“Don't believe me?” Derek grins, coming closer until they were nearly touching noses. “What’s this?” He turns his body slightly, revealing several bite marks over his right shoulder.

“Why would…?”

“Because,” Derek starts, pulling away with a smug grin. “Your fox likes me.” 

“Yay, me…”

All this meant was that his fox wanted something that it couldn't have. If push came to shove, yeah Stile would try to get along with Derek in a ‘couple setting’ if it was at the mutual benefits of their weres, because anyone can see that Derek Hale is hot as fuck, but he has this feeling that Derek prefers to sleep with nameless people instead of committing to one person. Not that Stiles blames him really, at least not after all of the shit he’s heard about Derek’s past relationships. One dying in his arms and the other turning out to be a psycho hunter who wants to kill your family? Yeah, he would cut off love after that too. 

“I'm going to make breakfast.” Derek suddenly says, or maybe not suddenly. Stiles isn't exactly sure.

“Yeah, go do that…” Stiles murmurs, flopping back into the pillows. “I am going to stay here and think.”

“Try not to think about Alexi in my bed, please.” 

At those words, Stiles heart starts to beat so goddamn fast that he is sure that he can hear his chest cavity creaking like an old, broken door. He told  _ his _ competition-turned-crush(?) about his ex? Yeah, that’s right,  _ his _ competition (the crush part isn't important. His fox is stupid). 

Anyway, back to competition. Yes. They may be co-owners of a now-billion-dollar company, but they are definitely competing with one another. 

A few years back Stilinski Inc went through deficit and Stiles damn near lost the family company. At the time it was only worth a few million, so lucky for him Derek fuck-me-hard-sideways-against-tree Hale and his family money showed up and could afford to buy in on it. Yeah, it meant the company wasn't going to sink and hundreds of people weren't going to be without a job, but it also meant that Derek Hale the infamous stone-cold son of european business mogul Talia Hale was going to be his partner. Stilinski Inc remained as Stilinski Inc for all of 3 hours after Derek bought his way in, and now it’s “S&H Incorporated”. They strictly deal with environmentally friendly creations, but on the down low, like  _ very _ down low, they help fund WERE. At first Stiles was  _ dead _ against that, after all, weaponry is what got his mother fatally sick and his father injured; but Derek convinced him that if they only made non-lethal weapons they would be able to triple their profits under the table. 

  
“What the human government doesn't know won’t kill them… Or maybe it will.” Is was that fucker said after he pitched the idea, and now Stiles is stuck indebted to said fucker because he just  _ had _ to go out and drink his sorrows away publicly. 

“Well,” Stiles sighs to himself, tapping his fingers over his bare chest. “Eventually we have to be adults and get along.” 

“How do you like your eggs?” Derek calls out, the sound of bacon sizzling filling the air. 

Why does this feel so domestic and  _ right _ ?

“Scrambled!” He answers back, sitting up and crawling out of the bed. Halfway to the door he realizes that he’s feeling a bit of a draft… Everywhere and looks down. “Where in the hell are my clothes, Derek?” He didn't yell, he doesn't need to, he knows Derek can hear him with those nosey-ass alpha ears. He definitely doesn't need to scream because there is no way he is standing in  _ Derek Hale’s _ bedroom naked… And if he is actually naked, then he doesn't need to freak out, because there is probably a perfectly fine and reasonable explanation for why he is naked. After all Derek said they didn't…  _ you know _ .

“You vomited all over me and Boyd last night, and to be honest, I would rather you didn’t sleep in  _ my _ bed reeking of puke  _ and _ miserable omega.” Derek says, walking into the room only to pause and eye him. “One of those scents is enough.”

“Know the smell of misery well, Hale?” Stiles spat.

“Only from working with you, Stilinski.”

Stiles glares. “Give me my clothes.”

“Shower first.”

_________

(Derek)

Stilinski is odd.

Yeah, that's common knowledge and all, but there is something about that golden-eyed omega. The thing is, Derek isn't exactly sure just what that thing is. 

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Derek clearly has some type of favourable emotion toward Stiles, hell Derek himself knows that. It wasn't everyday that he would call his night quits early just to take an annoyingly loud-mouthed werefox home so he could spend the night dotting on the drunken fur-brain.

But… Derek could not look himself in the mirror and say he regretted doing it, because he doesn't. Not for a second. Actually, he kind of likes taking care of Stiles even if he doesn't want to admit that just yet. 

“Stop it. Just grab his clothes…” Derek mumbled to himself as he tries his best not to think about the sound of the shower turning on and Stiles groaning when the water hits him. “I swear, he does it on purpose.” 

Yeah, Derek could blame Stiles’ attractiveness on the fact that Stiles knows he's attractive and loves driving Derek up a tree, but Derek knows differently. There are ...dark parts about Stiles that not many know. Like how Stiles struggled with bulimia in high school, or how Stiles would miss early classes because he was trying to find clothing that didn’t make him look “uglier”. Derek still can't understand how Stiles can think he's ugly when he has an infectious laugh, beautiful smile, and those charming moles that dot his skin like the stars do the sky. 

Not that Derek is suppose to know these things… But Cora told him all about it after she found out that he was buying his way into half ownership of Stilinski Inc. He knows she didn't tell him for his benefit, but for Stiles’. Cora may seem like the hateful one, but she cared deeply for those she loves, and lucky for Stiles he falls into that category. 

That, he decided, is the reason why he and Stiles would never work out...

Cora would skin him alive if he hurt Stiles in any way.    
  
And knowing himself, he would.

_________

(Stiles)

Now, Stiles didn't think that having a heartbreak-binge on a Wednesday night at his favourite bar would lead to him showering in  _ Derek Hale’s _ bathroom. If he did think that, then he probably would have foregone those activities and waited until Thursday because then there would be no way in hell he is using  _ Derek’s _ luffa, and there would also be no possibility that he would know  _ Derek’s _ shampoo smells this amazing

But then again he probably would have done this whole thing sooner because… Well, have you seen Derek?

“What shampoo brand do you use?” Stiles asks later, finally having clothing on. It may be Derek’s sweatpants and shirt, and it may be too big and drown his lithe frame slightly, but it is comfortable and it apparently pleases his fox. A lot.

Fucking alphas and their damn scents.

“I don't know, some department brand.”

“Wait…” Stiles grins suddenly, swaying closer to the alpha. “ _ You _ use  _ department brand _ stuff? You, Derek Freaking Hale, use department brands?”

He doesn't know what kind of reply he is expecting, but Stiles can't really say it surprises him when Derek just stares for a good minute while raising one of those ‘I'm  _ #SponsoredByRogaine’  _ eyebrows he’s known damn well for. “Eloquent, Stilinski.”

“Please,” Stile snorts, flicking a hand over his shoulder. “Can you even spell that, Hale?”

“E L O Q—”

“Seriously? It was rhetorical!” He sighs, dropping his head to the side with an exasperated expression on his face. “You alphas are so. damn. literal.”

Derek gives him such a stupidly insulted look after he says that. “We aren't always literal.”

“Uh, yeah, you are. It's probably built into the alphas genetic code or something…”

“I joke, sometimes.”

Que the loudest and most sarcastic snort in the history of snorts. “Yeah? About what exactly?”

“Uh…” Now, que the patent  _ Derek don't do emotions _ stare. 

“Yeeeah,” Stiles nods, smirking. “Sounds like a real good joke.”

“Laura thinks I'm hilarious.” The alpha grumbles, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking away with a frown. 

“I'm sure she's just being a supportive sister, Derek. Siblings do that… but if  _ Cora _ thinks you're funny, then I will try my best to believe there is a secret funny bone hidden beneath all that aggressive male muscle.”

Stiles watches with a blatant joy as Derek opens and closes his mouth a few times, likely wanting to say that Cora does think he's funny, but the alpha knows better. Cora and Stiles have been best friends for, Jesus… Ten years? Long before Derek came wandering on into his company and took over. 

“She doesn't think anyone or anything is funny.” 

“You must share that in common then…” Stiles shifts on his feet a bit. He was trying to stay standing and be more ...intimidating, maybe? Try and show Derek that he's not a cowering omega, and guessing by the way his fox is metaphorically preening he is also trying to show he's a strong omega. That he is good to breed and mate…But that endeavour is short lived because his feet start to hurt so he decides on sitting instead. “Although, she thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread and pornhub.” He turns away and makes his way over to the couch that is calling his name so loudly. 

Derek faces gets all pinched and looks painful, clearly not fond of his sister and pornhub being mentioned in the same sentence. 

“Seriously? As if you don't know good ole pornhub up close and personal. You're like…” He makes an up and down motion at Derek with his left hand. “6ft of bottled up emotion, I highly doubt you're out riding someone _every_ night. You definitely know the _palm_ _sisters_ real well.” 

“Palm sis— I hate you, Stilinski.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, a toothy grin forming on his face slowly. “Do you though? Because I'm  _ pretty _ sure you brought me —a lone omega— to your home and let me sleep in  _ your _ bed.”

The wolf huffed. “I can hate you and still be a gentleman, Stiles.”

“Oh, we're using first names now huh?”

“Stilinski, shut the hell up.” 

Stiles laughs, leaning back in the couch with a chuff of pure relaxation. “You have Netflix? Or is this big ass TV for show?”

Derek sighs at him before he walks away, probably to brood in silence.

“Hey! I'm talking to you, asshat!” He listens closely for a response, but after thirty seconds he forgets about it and lets his head fall back against the couch with an eye roll, wondering why in the hell he was stuck being affiliated with this stupid —albeit  _ extremely _ sexy— alpha. “Coward! And you call yourself a CEO!” 

_______________

(Derek)

On any given day you would see Derek and Stiles arguing in the hall about something extremely stupid, but today Stiles was not to be found. Derek knows Stiles is here though because he caught his scent a few times already, but he wouldn't admit that. 

“Stilinski in a meeting?” 

Boyd gives him a knowing look, but shakes his head. “Nope, he's in his office pretending he has a headache. Erica said he’s avoiding someone.”

Derek raises a brow. “Someone as in?”

“I don't know, Erica said he wouldn't tell her.”

He sighs softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god if this is because of last night…”

Boyd shrugs. “It might be, you know how sensitive Stilinski is. Him and Whittmore could be twins in that department.”

“At least Stiles is nice to look at…” Derek’s eyes widen when he realizes what he said, but he doesn't bother backpedaling because he knows Boyd is aware of his little crush. “I'm going to…” He points his thumb of his shoulder while backing away.

“Hide in your office and pretend you didn't just admit that?” Boyd finishes. 

“Yeah…” 

_______________

(Stiles)

Normally, Stiles would purposely sniff out Derek while they were at work so he could bother him and see the Alpha’s mouth pull into an irritated frown, but today?

Today as in the day after he woke up and found out he spent the night in derek’s bed  _ naked _ . 

Today as in the day after he was found at a bar crying over his asshole of an ex.

Today he is  _ definitely _ not going to seek Derek out because the wolf had so much embarrassing ammunition against him. 

“Erica, I  _ really  _ don't want to meet with him.”

Erica, the lovely assistant she is, gave him a sympathetic look. “Stiles, you have to. There is literally no possible way I can get you out of it this time.” She set the folder down on his desk he currently has his face resting on. “My hands are tied…”

He sighs, nodding in understanding. He knows she tried, she always tries to hand any meeting with Theo off to someone else. “I know, Erica.” With a disgruntled noise, he stood and cracked his knuckles. “When does he want to meet?”

“Three.” She said, picking the folder up where she set it. “But Stiles… He wants to meet at Lilianna’s.”

“Nope, if I'm meeting him it will be here where I can sic the twenty-seven alphas that work on this floor on him.” He declares as he sits up and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Why not ask Derek?”

Stiles gave her a look. “Not possible.”

“Okay…” Erica smirks, nodding her head. “But, I don't think Theo will like that…”

“Good, then tell him what I said.”

“With pleasure,  _ Mister Stilinski _ .”

This is why he chose Erica —who out of all of the applications was the most under qualified— as his assistant. When they first met, she was sassy and to the point. She never lied about  _ dying _ to work for him, or gave him a fake smile. With Erica, he knew from the first ten minutes that she was perfect for him. 

Assistant wise.

“Put him in his place, Erica! I believe in you!”

Erica pauses by the door, shooting him a ‘oh I will’ kind of smirk before disappearing around the corner. 

God he hopes she lays the law down thick on that stupid ass alpha. All Theo wanted was to meet with him because he knows he can use his alpha influence on Stiles. Being an omega in the corporate world was damn unheard of because of alphas like Theo Raeken who just  _ loved _ to put their pheromones out heavily on omegas, and sometimes even betas, in hopes to guide the conversation or deal in their favour. It worked once on Stiles and the company, as previously mentioned, nearly went under; but now Stiles has Derek. Derek who, as an alpha, is unmoving when it comes to deals. Derek has a resolve like Captain America’s vibranium shield.

It is unbreakable. Some might even say: invincible.

When Theo and Derek go head to head, arguing about some stupid multimillion dollar deal, it is like watching sulphuric acid (Theo) try eat through a glass beaker (Derek) which, any high school student could tell you, just wasn't possible. The reaction just couldn't happen.

“Okay, I told him.”

“And?”

Erica laughs, walking over to the window hand him the folder.

When the hell did he get over here? See because of Derek, and now Theo, he was losing his mind. 

“Well, he wasn't happy…  _ Obviously _ , but he agreed to meet with you in the conference room.”

Stiles couldn't help the grin that forms on his lips. Thank god for small miracles. “Great.”

“Oh, and don't forget about the party tonight at Lydia’s beach house.”

Stiles curses, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I forgot! Can't miss that, Lydia’ll kill me!”

Erica nods, snickering. “Oh yes she will. She had Derek make sure everyone was able to attend, even you.” 

“She would… As if I'm not the original boss of this damn company.”

The she-wolf pats him on the shoulder, offering him a smile. “We love you both equally… But, right now you have a meeting with numbnuts.” 

He sighs loudly. “Theo always knows when to time his fucking visits.”

“Try not to get too drunk tonight.”

____________

(Derek)

It sort of felt like someone was rubbing salt in a wound when he finds out Stiles roughed it through a meeting with fucking  _ Theo _ because he was to damn afraid to come ask for him to do it. For some reason his wolf didn't like that at all, and for the past two hours after finding out it has been pacing just under his skin, ready to slice throats if need be. 

“Dammit, Stiles.” He growls behind his thick canines. Derek never loses control like this, but fucking Stilinski just has to ruin everything. 

“Derek, you okay?” Leave it to Boyd to hear his growls. At work Boyd may be his assistant, but out of work and in a pack setting Boyd is his second and sometimes Derek forgets that. 

“Yes. Fine. Cancel my 5 o’clock.”

There is a long pause until Boyd answers him in a sarcastic tone. “Yes sir!”

Derek rolls his eyes and sits down on the floor in front of the window, wondering how this became his life.

He never loses control of his wolf. Hale children are taught at a very young age how to control their wolf because of the “pure” bloodline that the Hale family is known for. A pure bloodline isn't the-royal-families pure, but it is nearly the same in Derek’s eyes. The Hale line is the product of hundreds and hundreds of years of interspecies breeding meaning that there have only ever been wolves in the family tree. It sounds great on paper, but it isn't all it’s cracked up to be. The good that their ancestors thought they were doing metaphorically fucked them all presently. Now they are prone to aggression, substance abuse, and emotional outbreaks. 

Hundreds of generations later there are Hales that are killing each other, or becoming twisted blood-thirsty beasts. His uncle Peter is one of those Hales. After trying to kill his sister Laura for the pack alpha title, his mother had no choice but to put him down. She didn't kill  _ him _ , but she had a Druid for all intensive purposes kill his wolf. His siblings didn't know this, but after that their mother asked Derek to mate a different were type. Of course she stressed to him that she would be completely happy if he came home with a werewolf mate, but seeing that he was the second oldest child and the oldest unmated child she was relying on him to open the eyes to his siblings and family that it is okay to breed and mate a different were type.

“Don't forget about Lydia’s party tonight, boss!”

“Fuck!”

____________

(Stiles)

Everything sucks.

Alexi sucks.

Theo sucks.

Derek sucks. Well, he wishes Derek would suck.

And most of all? This party sucks complete and utter ass, and the boos are absolute trash. Lydia really didn't try this time, or she left all the fun stuff up with fucking  _ Whittmore _ . 

Who fucking drinks martinis at a party? This is a damn beach party where there is sand and water and washed up pieces of dead trees littered all over the place, so where the hell is the keg and funnel?

“Why am I sitting in the sand drinking a peach martini?” He mumbles to himself, staring down at the little pieces of sand that were currently residing in the bottom of his glass. 

“Because you're a sad  _ sad  _ case, Stilinski.”

“Just how sad? Sad like your hair? Or sad like your sex life?” He turns in the dirt, grinning up at the pouty-lipped brunette.

“Must be like my hair because my sex life is…  _ lovely _ .”

“That makes one of us.”

Let's just say this: Stiles’ love or sex life was very very sad. Yeah, he and Alexi only just broke up last week, but they were broken up physically for months before that… And it sucked to say the least. Those last few months before Alexi left him were hell, and they were hell because he knew Alexi was going to leave him. He knew that no matter what he did their relationship was finished. Donzo. Caput.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight?” Cora offers, planting herself in the sand beside him. 

“Riddle me this: how am I going to  _ get lucky _ at a party hosted by a colleague, whom only invited fellow colleagues?”

Cora leans back against the large piece of driftwood behind them, folding her arms behind her head like her older brother offer does… Not that Stiles watches him closely enough to know that. “You never know, Stiles; after all, my brother is here.”

“Cora, would you give it up? I'm not even six drinks in and you're already throwing your brother at me.”

“So?” She grins, turning her head the slightest bit so she can watch him with the corner of her eyes. “I know you both want to fuck the life out of each other, so why not mention it?”

“There are many—”

“I mean, everyone can see the sexual tension between you guys. It gives us all  _ fremdschämen _ , Stiles.”

“Frem… What?”

“Second hand embarrassment, Stiles. You both make everyone feel awkward, and it  _ sucks _ to be honest.”

“You spend one week in Germany…” Stiles glares at her like he always does when she says something stupid. “Why does everyone care if me and Derek fuck?” He downs the rest of his sandy martini, not pleased when there is no more jolly juice left in the glass. 

Cora flicks his chin with her pointy nails, making a face at him that could be described as ‘are you fucking serious?’. “Probably because it's tiring and  _ annoying _ to see you both go for each other’s throats when you want each other's dicks? Or maybe it's because you're both two big pussies that don't want to admit they may have feelings for one another?”

Okay, first of all…

Why is everyone certain Derek even likes him? The alpha is always complaining at him —not to him, but at him— about how annoying he is. Although, if you hate someone you wouldn't exactly take them home, wash them, feed them, and let them sleep their inebriation off in your bed, would you? 

“This is ridiculous. Derek and I share a company, nothing else.”

Cora does that groan-sigh thing at him, sitting up just enough to look him in his eyes as if it would help convey her point. “But there could be something else, Stiles… Don't you want something  _ more _ ?”

“At this given moment?” He shook his head, kissing his teeth. “No, not really.”

The youngest of the Hales just rolls her eyes at him. “Get over Alexi, he was an idiot anyway.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

_ But he was my idiot _ …

“He was stupid not to see your worth, Stiles. I told you from day one not let it become more than sex, I told you! But you were so damn determined that he was  _ the one _ …” Cora continues, having her daily  _ Alexi tangent _ . “Notice how he took  _ everything _ you bought him? If he didn't love you, I would think that he would leave it… No, he knew what he was doing. That beta came from nothing and got lucky that you guys met at a bar.” She gives him a stern look, that when deciphered from the language that is called ‘Hale’ could be translated as ‘you deserve better’ in common tongues. “He used you! He took you for granted and you deserve so much better, Stiles. You deserve—”

“Derek?” He offers, picking at his empty martini glass.

Cora deflates, shaking her head. “No, you deserve better than my emotionally constipated brother, too… But, at least I know I can trust your heart with my brother, Stiles. He may be able to put a vowed monk to shame when it comes to holding up conversations, but he would never do to you what Alexi did… If you both could just realize that.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side. “When did you become a therapist?”   
  
Cora leans towards him like she is going to kiss him on the cheek or hug him, but instead she punches him in the shoulder. Stiles is sure it was meant to be  _ playful _ and  _ fun _ , but Cora Hale is an alpha, and her being an Alpha meant that her punch probably separated his humerus from his scapula, which are two parts of him that he would sort of like to stay happily wed. “The moment you and Derek met.”    
  
Stiles decides to ignore  _ that _ while rubbing his shoulder. “How about we get drinks? I'm owed at least twenty-seven after that conversation.”    
  
Cora gives him a bland look, but she concedes and offers him a hand after she is standing. “Sounds like a plan, but I'm not  _ buying _ you twenty-seven drinks.”   
  
“It's a Lydia Martin party, Cora, the drinks are free!”   
  
“Alright, then I'm not letting you  _ have _ twenty-seven drinks. You're already leaning after that one martini.”   
  
Stiles, while not being twenty-seven drinks in, was definitely a little tipsy after the two vodka shots he did before arriving here and the three martinis he’s consumed once he stepped foot on the beach. “You're cute thinking that was my first drink of the night.”

Alcohol never really did much to his speech, but being the skinny, twitchy and hyper omega that he is meant that his hand-eye coordination was complete shit and adding alcohol into the mix made him the clumsiest thing on legs. Which is why he ends up tripping over his sand-covered feet and landing face first against a warm chest that belonged to a certain bushy-browed alpha.

“Stiles?”

“Mm, not here.” He mumbles, face pressed against Derek’s warm chest.

Derek snorts at him, actually snorts. The alpha didn't sigh or groan, he actually fucking snorts like he knows how to laugh. “Really? Because I can literally feel you.” 

“Thirty.” Stiles whispers, nodding to himself as he pulls away and smooths out his Hawaiian-style shirt. “Thirty.”

“Thirty what?”

“Stiles, you are not having thirty fucking drinks!”

“Ha!” Stiles whips around and points at his favourite Hale. “Just watch me, Cora! Just watch!”

When Stiles turns around again to excuse himself from Derek, he notices that the wolf is staring into his soul with those pretty hazel eyes of his.

“Why do you need thirty drinks?”

He makes such a face at that. “You  _ know _ why.”

Derek does that thing where his eyebrows try to merge together, and to be quite honest Stiles finds it fascinating and very amusing most of the time, but right now he wanted to be as far away from Derek as he can because there was no way in hell he was standing around and chatting with the guy who undressed and cleaned him.

Not a chance. 

“Stiles, if you're uncomfortab—”

“Nope, don't want to talk about it!” He all but yells, pressing his index fingers into his ears and humming loudly like the child he is at heart. 

Derek’s voice can still be heard for the most part. The fingers in his ears don't exactly stop the sound from hitting his eardrums, it more or less makes everything sound muffled like when you're submerged in water and people are talking above the surface. If asked several weeks later, Stiles would admit that the action was mainly for show and to get Derek to shut up, but it's not like Derek is saying anything embarrassing at the moment. The alpha is clearly trying to get his attention of the muffled calls of “Stiles” and the hand waving is anything to go by.

“Thirty!” Is all he says, taking off toward the tiki-styled bar just at the edge of the grass. 

____________

(Derek)

Derek wasn't going to tell anyone this, but he was sort of happy to see Stiles, even if it was only long enough for the omega to mumble against his chest before scampering off. He knows Cora can tell, she's grinning at him like she always does when she knows something.

Honestly, the grinning is pissing him off. “What?”

His sister smirks, swaying closer dramatically. “You really should stop trying to fool yourself. You. Want. Him.” 

Derek huffs loudly and turns his face away from her like she stinks. “I really don't.”

“Oh, Darry, yes you do.” 

“I told you not to call me that like 10 years ago.” He says, hoping to change topics.

“And I told you 10 years ago that the omega you smell on me isn't mine.” 

Derek turns to look at her, eyebrow raised. “If he's so great then why haven't you mated him?” 

Cora rolls her eyes, sighing long and hard. Must be hard work meddling in people's lives. “Because he's not my type.” 

“And what exactly is your type?”

Cora snickers, pointing over at Lydia and Jackson. 

“ _ Whittmore _ ?”

She makes a disgusted face at him, and Derek thinks that the facial expression is fitting when Jackson Whittmore is involved. “No, I'm talking about the beautiful redhead with those  _ ‘kiss me’ _ lips.”

Surprisingly that doesn't surprise him. “Huh.” 

Cora punches him in the shoulder and stares at him. “What the hell!”

What is her problem now? Was she expecting him to go be her wingman or something. “What?”

“I just tell you I'm gay and you say ‘huh’?!”

Derek shrugs, looking at Cora like it is the first time he’s seen her. “I feel like I already knew that. It's not like I'm going to judge you, clearly I'm not straight, Cora.” He wraps an arm around her, smirking. “Sadly though, I don't think you're her type. She prefers them whiny and blonde.” 

“Oh we’ll see about that.” 

“Cora…”

“What? There's no harm in trying!”

Derek sighs. “Jackson is one of those prissy betas that will throw lawyers at you for so much as breathing. I can only imagine what he would do if you start flirting with his intended.”

“I'm not worried.” Cora snickers, pulling away from him. “Anyway, I need to go check on doofus.”

“Doof—?”

“Stiles, Derek. I need to check on Stiles.”

“Oh.”

When Cora walks away he could swear her heard her say something along the lines of, “useless.”

__________

(Stiles)

Eight shots in and Stiles is sure that his body is 76.8% vodka. Cora had made several attempts to pull him away from his perch at the bar, but Danny is bartending. The human is a damn fine bartender, and he is excellent to look at. Stiles is 75.6% sure that Lydia asked Danny to bartend because he’s great eye candy; not that Danny is bothered by that. Sheesh, everyone knows Danny loves to flirt and chat. Never used to be like that really when they went to BHHS, but apparently three years and your own bar changes you. 

“Stiles, you should probably stop after this one.” Danny chuckles at him, though he still slides a shot glass across the counter to him. 

“I pr’mized mysel’v thirty dur’rinks, Dan th’man.”

“You should have promised yourself something else.” 

Stiles winks at Danny before tips his head back and downs the shot with a groan of pleasure. “Ahh! Jus like budder!”

Danny shakes his head at him, smiling that crooked smile of his. “You make a habit of drinking butter a lot?”

“How’d you think I keep my fig’yer?”

Stiles watches as Danny sets the drink he is making down and openly eyes him. “You're an omega, isn't the figure with the territory?” The smirk on Danny’s face tells him that the human is joking, but it doesn't stop him from being slightly offended.

“No, Danny, that iz not h-ow it workz.” He opens his mouth, about to go on the longest drunken tangent. 

“Stiles, I didn't mean…”

He ignores Danny’s half-ass attempt to apologize in favour of properly educating the poor, ignorant man. “Firssst of all, omegas aren't act’chuly weak. We may… may be sm’mall, but we are mighty. Tech’nickly we ‘ave more natural stray’genth then betas, but it takez a lot out of us toooo expel it. Secondly, omegas have the high-highest stamina out’a all gender classes. Thirdly, yer human so you really aren't in any pos-position to poke fun at a werefox omega—”

“You're a werefox?” A voice purrs beside him, making Stiles spin around a little too quickly. Being the clumsy entity he is, he ends up nearly falling into the stranger’s lap. “Careful there, little one.”

“Who does’nt know that imma werefox? I'm lid’erally worth billions of millions and I'm very public about my were type.” 

“I had thought I all to be lies.” The stranger says, gently righting Stiles in his seat. “Very curious. Omega werefoxes aren't common in America, you must originate from another country.”

“I as’sure you  _ I _ am very Amery’can, but my parents are from Poland.” Which is another fact about him that is very public so it is kind of odd that this strange man didn't know any of that. Did he live under a rock or something? And why is he at Lydia’s party? Did someone invite his weird self?

“Poland? Ah, very nice. Do you speak it?”

“Yes, I am fa’miliar with polish.”

Stiles takes a few minutes to actually take a look at the stranger talking to him. Truthfully the man isn't hideous, but there's something definitely off about him. He couldn't even smell his were type or gender class, which should be a red flag to him, but he's drunk and all. Stiles could cheat and  _ accidentally _ flash his eyes at the guy, all gender classes respond to that. “You don't smell human.” Is what he slurs out instead of being super sleuth. 

The guy must really like what he says because he grins from ear to ear like a creepy kidnapper from a scary movie. “Because I am not.”

Before Stiles or the guy can say anything else, there is a loud, booming voice beside him that nearly scares Stiles off of his bar stool. “Get the hell away from him, Peter.”

“Ah, nephew…” The man— Peter says. 

Wait? Nephew? 

Stiles turns slightly, though it's more of a head movement than anything. Huh, so the owner of the voice is Derek? He's pretty hot from this angle. 

“Shut up, Stiles.” The alpha grumbles at him, but there was a flush on his cheeks. Is Derek buzzed too?

“He’s charming, Nephew. I approve.” 

Derek growls loudly and Stiles is pretty sure it shouldn't turn him on like it does. “I don't care what you approve of, Peter.”

Peter smiles happily at Derek, leaning against the bar top. “You sure?”

Derek steps closer, glaring. “Positive.” 

Stiles decides it's probably about time he intervenes and stops the impending collision of these two wolves. “D’rek…” He steps in front of the alpha, staring up at him. “Wait… Why can't I smell him? He’z a wolf right?”

“No, he doesn't have a wolf anymore.” 

“Why?”

Derek looks down his nose at him. “Stiles, move.”

Stiles raises a brow at him, staying in place. “No.”

Peter laughs from behind him, and Stiles is 98% sure that the stupid not-wolf has that creeper grin on his face. “Sassy.”

Derek growls again, this time taking his eyes of Stiles so that he can eye the not-wolf. “Shut up, Peter.”

“Why don't you come try and make me,  _ Alpha _ Hale?”

Stiles watches as Derek’s eyes narrow into slits. “So that's why you're here? If you want to kill me, then go ahead and try.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and steps back so he can safely eye them both. What the hell is Derek talking about? Killing? “What?”

Peter grins, standing up. “Maybe I will.”

Somehow Stiles ends up with his hands on both of their chests, holding them apart while he looks at Danny with a silent plea for help. Of course Danny doesn't do anything because he is only human and can't exactly do much except for die a bloody death if he were to step in between two weres.

“Derek, let's go find Cora.”

“Oh, my niece is here too?”

“Yeah, I'm right here.” Cora growls, claws pressed lightly against her uncle’s neck. “Maybe you should leave, Peter.”

Pete laughs, though is ends in a hiss when Cora’s claws draw blood from his neck. “I was just starting to have a good time.”

“Leave.” Both Cora and Derek growl.

“Fine. Fine!” Peter pushes Cora away from him. “I will go.” He says, smoothing out his shirt. 

“Not nice meeting you.” Stiles says, his buzz gone after this clusterfuck of familial angst. 

Peter smiles that creepy smile of his and does a half bow. “It was absolutely lovely to meet you, Stiles. We must do this again.” 

When he was younger Stiles always thought that the villains disappeared in clouds of black smoke or in an expensive sports car, but Peter just walked off. No dramatic music or a smoke screen, just an average sized man wandering down the beach. 

“He's weird...”

Cora snorts. “We're aware.”

“Yeah, you must… Pretty weird way to treat an uncle though.”

This time Derek speaks. “He's not welcome in our family anymore.”

“I feel like I shouldn't ask why but I'm going to ask why anyway… So why?”

Derek looks at him. “Because he tried to kill my sister.”

Stiles opens his mouth and turns to look at Cora. 

“No, not this one.” She chuckles, though her eyes are dark. 

“Laura?” The Hale siblings nod at him. “Why?”

“Power. She's the oldest.” 

“That's why—”

Cora cuts him off and nods at him. “Mom had a Druid put his wolf down.”

“Rough.”

They all stand there for several minutes not saying anything else. Eventually Cora excuses herself to go chase after Lydia, which leave Derek and Stiles standing there alone while they eye the setting sun. The silence between them wasn't awkward, which Stiles is forever grateful for. 

It's Derek who breaks the silence. “Want to go to dinner sometime?”

Stiles laughs and looks at him. “You're paying.”

Derek snorts. “I'm paying.”

  
  
  



End file.
